In A Time of Her Own
by justagirlandhersocks
Summary: Medieval AU. Maka does not like her life of a medieval Countess-in-waiting, especially now that many of her arranged marriages have fallen through. But soon she will have to choose between her duty to her father and her people or her own enjoyment when she meets a strange boy who questions her every move.
1. Chapter 1

"Maka, darling! Come back! Please!" Her father shouted after her – Count Spirit of the North, Knight and humble servant of King Death – begging Maka to stop. No, she wasn't called only Maka. Her official title was Lady Maka, Countess-in-waiting of the Northern lands, soon to be bride. Except, she did not want to be a bride, not anymore.

In the past five years she had gone through multiple arranged marriages. The papers, the wedding, the invitations and announcements; all would be sent throughout the lands and then something would happen to rip the procedures into shreds. And it had just happened again, which is what preceded the begging and halted with Maka storming out of her father's hall.

Maka was sick of it. Sick of it all. The noble life and the responsibilities she now had, the expectations of the people – her people – always demanding more from her, and the worse part was the feeling of inadequacy that she lugged around with herself. She couldn't even get a husband. Ever since her father had been dubbed a Count on her eighth birthday, a mere seven years previous, this feeling had surrounded her. She never felt as if she fit in with the court. The nobles looked down upon her, their beady eyes squinty down their upturned noses at such a commoner being given the title of Lady.

Those feelings had only been made worse by the exorbitant amount of issues that had arisen with the marriages. Maka had gone through six, _now seven _she thought brusquely, broken engagements. All to young men with higher social standing than her own. It had started at age twelve and gone downhill from there. The first hadn't hurt her that much, but as she grew older her emotions regarding the suitors became less stable. Sometimes it was her father's fault, as he had very high expectations for the man he allowed Maka to marry. Other times it was her fault, for she had ideas of her own that she would not suppress. And then there was this time, where the other family broke the engagement and made her feel even less adequate.

In her flurry of anger and resentment she had retreated to the place she enjoyed the most, the stables. Her young life, before her father had become Count, had been much easier for her. Maka's life was simpler and uncomplicated. She didn't have to worry about proper etiquette or ways to do her hair. All she had ever had to worry about when her father was merely a Knight was which horse she would take riding and when her father would return from his monthly sieges of war. Now she had to occupy herself with what was prim and proper for a Lady, and she didn't much care for that life at all.

What she absolutely enjoyed most in her life was riding, and her horses in general. After a long hard day without freedom, and completely void of any of her happiness, she wanted to ride. But she couldn't. Her father's reputation had grown too much, and her face was recognizable amongst his enemies. Not only was gaining class standing stopping her from doing what she wanted, it was also taking away the only love she had in her life. The freedom of the wind whipping her face gave her chills, but for now it wasn't meant to be.

With a sigh Maka covered her face with her cloak's hood and entered into the stables. The smell was a familiar, albeit not extremely pleasant, thing to behold. The stalls hadn't been mucked out yet for the day. Maka silently strode to her favorite horse, Blair, and gave her a nuzzle on her nose.

"What am I doing with my life Blair? I don't even seen the point anymore." Maka's connection with her horse was unimaginable to say the least. Blair seemed to know exactly what Maka meant when she spoke to her, and was always Maka's greatest comfort. The horse blew air through her nose in protest, as if saying that Maka's life had a point that she was certainly looking past.

"Well what am I supposed to do about it? I can't even control when I take baths anymore! Everything is all so strict and formal, I hate it so much Blair! I don't want to be here anymore!" Blair gave a little whinny and nudged her muzzle into the nape of Maka's neck. Her comfort was easily accepted by Maka, especially when she felt the fresh heat of tears sting her cheeks. Her moment of silence was ruined when she heard a sarcastic voice from behind her.

"If _my Lady_ would so please, I need to clean her horse's stall." The muscular man had a shock of blue hair that matched the skies of Maka's dreams. His shoulder had a brand upon it of a star, marking him as property of the Star Nation of the West – past enemies of King Death and Maka's father. Past meaning that they were now almost extinct, except for the specimen standing in front of her. Maka's father had decimated the Star Nation in those years when she had been a free child, and now she was as chained to her father as the man standing before her.

"Black Star, you know not to call me that. I do not like it, and neither do you."

"Ah, yes I know, but I could not stop myself from the temptation to annoy the young master." With this he did an extravagent little bow that only furthered her annoyance. Black Star had been spared by her father during his conquest because he was so young and of royal blood. Spirit brought him home and set him to work in the stables, which was where he now spent all of his time. He was only a few years older than Maka, and the two had always been known to get into fights throughout their childhoods. He acted more like an annoying brother that she could never get away from as each day passed. "If you would so please to _move out of the way_ I would be able to perform my job correctly…and you would be able to find the hole in the fence that I have yet to fix while I am swamped with these stables…"

The abrupt shift in his meaning caught Maka off guard. The spark in her eyes lit up at the thought of riding again on her own, without a guard surrounding her and pulling her back. A smile spread quickly across her face as she thanked Black Star profusely.

"Just go kid…I have work to finish. Be back before dusk and I will cover for you. After that, you are on your own."

With the agreement in place she quickly grabbed a blanket for Blair's back and a halter. Within mere seconds Maka was flying out the door, cloak still covering her face with a promise of an afternoon of well-deserved freedom from the demands of nobility.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Obviously, it isn't M yet. It will be….eventually. The M rating is a warning of things to come, kay? Thank you to the people that have already pushed me to keep writing this. Procrastination is a deadly thing. And so is college. Live at home as long as you can.

And I obviously don't own Soul Eater, otherwise this SoMa shit would be completely canon already.

* * *

Maka pulled Blair through the somewhat tight fit of the broken fence, thanking Black Star again silently in her head. She pulled herself onto Blair's back, savoring the feeling of riding. The missing piece of her was complete, and Maka no longer felt the dismal nature she carried within the castle. Urging Blair to a steady gallop, Maka let her hood down and relished the feel of the wind whipping across her face once more. She raised her hands to the sky, basking in the sunlight and letting an audible scree of joy out of her mouth.

It seemed as if the outside world had missed her too. The very essence of life followed in the footsteps of her horse, animals awakening to the noise of hooves and the whispers of the morning valley. But, Maka had let her mind drift too far into riding for her pleasure, and not into where she was going. With a quick pull on the reins she jerked Blair to a halt and recognized where she had almost entered unknowingly.

Death Forest. No one knew exactly what resided within, but she did know that King Death had strictly forbidden entrance to all without special clearance. Merely gazing into the deep recesses of the trail that meandered through the entrance was enough to give Maka the chills. She pulled Blair around and headed far enough out to skirt the forest, heading to the village nearby that she hadn't visited in what seemed to be ages.

It sat only minutes away from the edge of the forest, and for that reason seemed sparse of life during most of the year. Today though, the little village almost felt lively. Within the main square everyone was surrounded, rather excitedly, a young man. A white shock of hair seemed deftly out of place upon his head, and strangely surreal. The crowd surged around him in fright, as he had taken torches and lit theme. His hair shimmered in the flames, the heat the torches exerted leaving a sheen of sweat upon his brow. Maka stayed back, far from the edge of the crowd. She had a good view of the boy and was trying to be inconspicuous. The white-haired boy called to the crowd, working their fervor in favor of his act.

"The obstacle that can stop all of man! Fire!" He spun his torches closer to the crowd, a gasp quickly followed. Maka could see his smirk from where she watched. Typical, an egotistical circus performer, she had seen it all before in the courts.

"Can you handle the feats I am about to show you? The dazzling performance, beheld only by the Kings and Queens? Are you prepared?" The crowd fidgeted with anticipation wanting for the boy to continue, but afraid of what could happen. Maka found herself sitting high on her seat, straining her eyes to focus more upon the boy's actions. Without hesitation he dove, torches still within his hands, assuredly propelling through a routine of footwork and tumbling. Flip after flip. Close calls with the flames that appeared to skim his very flesh, but never leave any sign of burns. His skin produced a glow that caught Maka's eyes and held her attention. Surefootedness and dexterity allowing each of his moves to be fluid. They carried on, as if a continual loop of aptitude was necessary for the crowd to enjoy.

The crowd built his performance; exhaling and inhaling with perfect timing, his maneuvers steadily raising the anxiety that slithered between the people. Mothers clutched at their children's eyes, hoping to spare them from any unforeseen incidents. Flashes of white and red flared with the particularly nail-biting action of the boy tossing the torches to be caught by his feet, as his hands supported his weight. His balance was impeccable; his hair swayed beneath the rippling muscles of his body, feet contorted to hold the torches in a manner that dangled the fire close to clothes. Maka's indifference to the boy's performance had changed since he began his endeavors at wooing the crowd. She found her eyes drifting down his lean structure, noting the lean –yet strong- build of his frame.

The boy twisted, tossing the torches high into the air. His feet landed with cat-like precision upon the ground, and he easily reached above his head to grasp the twirling torches. It looked as if he were plucking feathers out of the wind instead of flames that licked at his hands. A glint of the fire in his eyes seemed to leave them a red color, but Maka only thought it was a trick of the light. He ended his performance by blowing alcohol into the flames, creating a great puff of fire that expanded to the edge of the crowd. They stepped back as the flames almost engulfed the boy, yet he did not flinch. Maka did not understand how – she could feel the heat from where she was placed. As the flames died down the boy extinguished his torches, only to be surged by the exuberant crowd. They blocked Maka's view of the boy, and all she could see was the unnatural hue of his hair.

Cheering died out as the boy backed away, pulling out a small harp. Maka scoffed at his idea of his instrument, thinking that a harp did not fit his prior act. Harps were of the courtly life, they were only taught to minstrels and troubadours within a musical family or those of high class. She chuckled, remembering a time when her father had forced music lessons upon her when their class first began to rise. The lute had ended up strung around the instructor's face. Maka still faced no regrets with that decision, for it had stopped any possibility of another teacher attempting to teach her anything musically related. Here focus again went to the boy, as he began speaking to the mass.

"I have a song, if the crowd is so pleased? I warn, it is rather inappropriate for higher tastes!" The troupe of men that had gather exclaimed their want for the song, now that they knew it would be to their taste. Women took this as their exit queue, grabbing children by ears and dragging them back to their chores. Only a rowdy group was left, a ragtag of decrepit men – and Maka in the distance. She felt no need to leave; she had grown up on much worse than anything this boy could say. The men left her unnoticed, but the boy gazed at her freely. His smirk widened at the determined look upon Maka's face.

"Women, women, love of women,

Steal the money of some men,

Some be prudish as a nun's hen,

Yet all of they aren't so.

some be lewd,

some be shrewd;

Go shrews where they go.

Sum be nise, and some be easy,

And some be tame, and understand,

And some can take wide of a man's hand,

Yet all of they be aren't so.

some be lewd,

some be shrewd;

Go shrews where they go.

Some put out without being paid,

And some bait men in every shire,

And some checkmate with our Lord,

Yet all they aren't so.

Some be lewd,

and some be shrewd,

go where they go.

Some be brown, and some be white,

And some be tender as a tripe,

And some of them be cheery ripe,

Yet all they be not so.

Some be lewd,

and some be shrewd,

go where they go."

Blair pawed at the ground. The bawdy crowd was testing her patience, and Maka agreed with Blair's sentiments. Maka found the crowd displeasing in her taste, and because people always surrounded her when she was at the castle. She wanted quiet and solace while she could enjoy it; the boy's performance was enough excitement for one day. She patted Blair's neck and pulled the reins, signaling to her companion that it was time to leave. Maka had a place that she wanted to get to before the sun fell too low in the sky.

Maka could still hear the boy's singing as she exited the town. His voice insinuated more teaching, and sounded of a life that was not of a common circus clown. Her curiosity for the boy dispersed as she reached where she had wanted to be since this morning. And every morning she woke up in the cold stone castle. Her thoughts were so single minded as she left the village that she didn't notice the two pairs of eyes that were watching her retreat.

One pair with curious interest, the other with malicious intent.

* * *

I had to put so much into research for this because I'm so afraid of sounding like a dumb butt when I talk about things I don't know super well.

So thank you for the reviews, nice ones always make me roll around on the floor for a while. IT'S GONNA GET GOOD SOON, I PROMISE BECAUSE SOUL IS COMING. Did you like what you saw already?


	3. Chapter 3

I meant to update this Friday…well you see how that went. I'm loving the reviews I'm getting, so thank you so much!

Clearing the hill outside the village, Maka found herself becoming more nervous. She hadn't been to this place in many years, for it had been that long since she had achieved an ounce of freedom or an opportunity. Blair made a soft whinny when she recognized the intent that Maka had set out with, for Blair also knew this place as well. Maka urged Blair to a steady trot, knowing that their time was running short. They would not have much time before they needed to turn around. Black Star's promise to cover for daylight hours nagged at her mind. The somewhat rocky and desolate land had slowly converted to rolling meadows of tall, wispy grasses. Maka was no longer telling Blair the directions to take. Her horse knew the way to their destination. Unlike Maka, who only vaguely remembered which path to follow.

At the crest of the next hill Maka finally saw it. Sitting in the little valley between the hills was a dilapidated cottage, nearly burnt to the ground. Maka slid off of Blair's back; she was slightly hesitant to go closer, but too nostalgic to stop herself. Leading Blair to a well that was in better shape than the house, Maka pulled some water up for her horse to drink. With Blair distracted, Maka walked closer to the house, afraid of what was still within.

Flashes of memory danced in her mind, many quite fuzzy. Seconds of one memory molding straight into another. The times she waited patiently for her father to come home, running through the meadows with a newly foaled Blair, Maka's mother trying ribbons into her hair. It all became a jumbled mess of emotions that Maka could not sort through. She ran her hand over the fire-scarred wood, trying to force the memories of that night out of her head. But she couldn't, try as she might.

Flames burnt through her memories, the heat burning her face as if it were fresh. The fire felt real again, even though it was all in Maka's mind. Flares blazing across the roof as it caved in, a scream that was not her own. Maka calling and calling, hoping that somehow it was not real. Wishing that her Papa were home, that he would come swooping in now just how he always did in battle. The screaming continued as Maka's hopelessness escalated. She was such a little girl, crying for her mother with despair in her voice. And then silence. Only the crackling speak of fire could be heard and she knew. She knew that she would forever only have Papa to care for her. Papa and Blair, and that was it.

Bile rose to the back of her throat as she quickly stepped back from the structure, pushing the memories back into the emotional chest they had been locked in since that night. Blair gave a small whinny as Maka backed into her, and nudged her nose into Maka's back. Her emotions were spiraling into forms of darkness that she had all but expelled from her life recently. Preoccupying herself with Papa's interest of finding her a husband and the duties she had at court had given her an opportunity to forget, or at least _try_ to. Obviously, it had all been a lie. Her mask had a crack, and the longer she stayed near the building the faster that crack seemed to spread. And she was not ready to unlock the secrets she had hidden so well.

"Shhh, Blair. I am fine. I do not think I was ready to do this. Mama…" The despair tangled in her words was not lost on the horse. They had practically grown up together, and when she was around Blair she felt like herself. No facades of courtly mannerisms or expectations. Blair had seen her cry and understood her more than anyone else. Maka's almost tears were rubbed onto Blair's neck as Maka buried her face into her best friend's fur. The two were so intent upon the other that they did not hear the approaching stranger until he acknowledged himself.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing so far from your castle, miss?" The horse and girl jumped, not expecting a voice to be so close. They wildly looked around, and Maka felt her annoyance flash again, along with her need to cover her red eyes. The boy who had been doing the stunts in the square seemed to appear from thin air, with a cheeky grin upon his smart little face. He lounged upon the well; acting as if it belonged to him when in actuality it did not. "Wouldn't want you to get kidnapped, or something like that, eh?"

"I think I can handle myself quite nicely, thank you. Perhaps you should not be wandering around, sneaking up on girls who are a bit preoccupied. You could get hurt if you are not careful. And how did you know I was from a castle? And why did you follow me here? Do you not have better frivolities to be spending your time on?" Her chest puffed with each question. She whipped each one at him before he could respond to the previous, Maka's rage at being followed to her past home and spied on only kindling her sharpness.

"Woah there, let's just take a minute. You don't have to be so vicious with me! I'm _delicate._" He said the last word with a little flourish, flashing his teeth at Maka with a theatrical flair. "But the first and most obvious answer would be your clothes. You don't fit in with the commoners, nor even a knight's family. You have too many colors on, so I'm guessing that you're either of noble blood or as close as you can be to it. Am I correct?"

She _was_ as close as she could be to nobility. Once her father had been given the title of Count she had become upper class elite, the only way to gain more status was for her to marry a noble. Which is what put her in this predicament in the first place. Her eyes flitted down to what she was wearing, scrutinizing the dress that had been laid out for her by her maid this morning. Indeed, she did have an exorbitant amount of colors on, which was an easy way to tell apart the hierarchy of society. Her forehead clenched in irritation at his astute observation, hoping that none of her father's enemies had seen her and thought the same as this boy had.

"Fine, I understand that my choice of clothing was not the best decision I could have made." The exasperation in her voice could have made milk turn sour.

"Oh yes m'lady, quite dangerous of you to flaunt your status when you're by yourself without any weapons for defense."

"When did I say I was not armed, minstrel?" Her thoughts flashed to the dagger she carried underneath her laced boots, calculating that it would take longer to reach it if she needed it than she particularly enjoyed, but having no other place to put it left her at a loss.

"You're quite the lady then, aren't you miss? Going off on your own without a guard, flaunting your privilege over others without so much, and all while being oblivious to reality. It seems like you're a little bit too far away from your castle, doesn't it?"

"I would rather like for you to alleviate this notion that you must talk to me. Your perception of my life is miniscule to say the least, and you know nothing of the culture I live in. It is much different from your bawdry world of flippancy and mirth, for having status comes with responsibility. Something you know nothing of, I assume." Maka's words were meant to slice at him. She was still upset that he had snuck up on her without her noticing, and because he was so damn _presumptuous. _The boy's snide smirk disappeared for a fraction; so fleeting that she was not sure if it had been her imagination or reality. He exhaled a puff of air through his nostrils in exasperation, and maybe it was mingled with a little smidgeon of surprise. But her mind keept no focus upon his indignation when she noticed just how far the sun has trickled down in the sky.

Calculations ran through Maka's head as she estimated her arrival time, but her heart sunk as she realized that she was late. _Very _late. There was no possible way that she would be back within the castle walls by the time the sun had sunken under the horizon. She cringed at the outrageous tantrum Papa would be sure to be throwing when he could not find her where she was supposed to be. With the promise of horrors that awaited her, Maka flung herself quickly onto Blair. The boy seemed even more perplexed at Maka's actions, but he made no move to stop her as she adjusted her reins. His nonchalant attitude had sprung back to its previous engagements. Blair began turning away, almost urged to a trot before the boy interrupted their exit.

"Leaving so soon Princess? Have I offended you so greatly in such a small amount of time?" He called after her retreating figure, not expecting a rise out of her. But her horse abruptly shifted and turned, and he could see the anger flashing across her face.

"It would be best for you to note that you have done nothing of the sort, you have merely inconvenienced me by being an ignorant little fly buzzing around my head all day. You followed me here in a very disturbing manner, and then proceeded to threaten me. Thus, I find your presence here irksome, to say the least. You need also to leave this property, for it does not belong to you." Blair took this as a cue to insert her own disgust for the boy with a loud exertion of air from her nostrils. With that Maka turned Blair in a tight circle again, and made on her way.

The boy, though slightly shocked at first, quickly regained the use of his jaw – which had hung lifelessly from his face with her curt retort. When his jaw was rightly closed again, his smirk took its prevalent spot upon his face. A low chuckle came from deep within his body as he watched the fiery girl and her disrespectful horse trot away. If he had anything to do with it, she would be seeing him again. And soon. The boy turned and headed on his way back to the village, plotting ways to come closer to the girl that had shown him where his place was. A spirited girl was exactly what he was missing in his life.

Maka and Soul are both so sassy. It's really fun to write, but Soul's personality just escapes me a lot. How does one cocky and arrogant? Well, I tried. It only gets worse from here.


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